


Two idiots and a Dog (and others probably)

by DANIEL_THE_FUCKING_HORSE



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But teen for now cus Hank, Connor Deserves Happiness, Father-Son Relationship, First work - Freeform, Gen, Hank is best dad, Hurt No Comfort, I mean have you seen my name, No Beta, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ouch, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Rating May Change, Sumo being a good boi, Tags Are Hard, but super awkward about it, if people actually like this, mercy upon my soul, most likely, so much swearing, there will be so much fluff, why wouldnt there be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DANIEL_THE_FUCKING_HORSE/pseuds/DANIEL_THE_FUCKING_HORSE
Summary: Just a bunch of random one-shots of Hank and Connor trying to figure out how to live their lives after the revolution.





	1. The Hug Scene cus yes

**Author's Note:**

> I started this because fuck it, why not add to the growing pile of DBH trash? If you can't beat'em, join'em.
> 
> If y'all have suggestions, drop them in the comments on chapter one... cus like.. won't look anywhere else... I'm lazy, leave me alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory 'Hug Scene' to kick things off.

God it was fucking cold.

 

Hank shoved his hands in his pocket as another icy chill blew past, making a hollow howling sound that for once wasn't interrupted by the busy noises of Detroit.

Most people had evacuated the city 3 days ago. _Most people._ Hank, however was not most people. He didn't really give a shit about the 'potential dangers' that would supposedly fill the city now that androids were free. Sure, he didn't doubt that some of them weren't on the same page as the peaceful revolution that Markus led, but the majority of the worry was just bullshit the media was spewing out instead of trying to check the real facts.

 That wasn't the whole reason he was still here though. Hank was still here specifically because Connor finally contacted him after essentially falling off the face of the earth for those 3 days. He couldn't call to make sure he was still alive since the city's cell service all but disappeared(not really a surprise considering) and he had no idea where the android was staying either. It seemed to simply be by random chance that the, wait for it, pay phones they had at the precinct for guests were working. Hank had always wondered why the hell they even kept the damn things, or if they even worked still since he had never once seen anyone use them. The lieutenant certainly wasn't complaining though.

They agreed to meet outside Chicken Feed, a staple of familiarity to the two, but Hank was beginning to wonder if Connor was actually going to show up. It had been a good half hour since their agreed meet-up time and he was getting super fucking cold out here.

 

Soon enough though, he could see a familiar figure approaching and let out a sigh of relief he didn't even realize he was holding. A gentle smile fell over his face and once he was close enough, he drew the android into a tight bear hug. To say the lieutenant had been worried about the kid would be an understatement. He was terrified, but of course that wasn't something he'd ever say out loud.

 

 "You're late, asshole." He said, not with any real malice into the android's shoulder before pulling away to get a good look at the kid. "Apologies, Lieutenant. I... got a bit held up." There was a sheepish looking smile on Connor's face. Not entirely natural looking, but he was trying, Hank guessed, so he didn't say much of it.

 

"Held up, eh? You up with Jericho helping Robo-Jesus and his crew?" Connor gave him a puzzled look and opened his mouth to say something before Hank rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle and answered for him. "Markus. I'm talking about Markus."

Seemingly content with this explanation, the android responded. "Ah. And no, after the first night with Jericho and the freed Cyber Life androids, I decided against staying at the church." This response caused Hank to raise a brow. What happened during the first night to make mister logic decide against staying? After all, It was probably the safest place for androids right now.

"Oh yeah? How come?"

"I was..." Connor seemed to genuinely hesitate this time, glancing down at the snow for a moment before returning his gaze to the lieutenant. "...uncomfortable... staying there. It didn't seem right. While I did assist in the last leg of the revolution, I doubt my abilities would prove useful in governing the aftermath."

"And besides, " He paused, taking on a more playful nature, giving another little smile as he continued. " it's not really my crowd."

Hank couldn't help but shake his head and smile. The cheeky bastard. Of course, despite the reaction, he hadn't been named the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit for nothing. He could tell the android was dodging something and using a very,  _very_ poorly developed sense of humor to hide it, but he decided not to push.

After a somewhat long pause of the two just staring at each other and the surrounding area like nervous children, the human finally decided to break the ice (both figuratively and literally if you asked him. Hank swore the bottom of his jeans were beginning to freeze in place). "So... What are ya gonna do now? Ya got your free will, what do you want to do with it?"

Connor's little mood ring or whatever started spinning a hasty yellow as he shifted his gaze to the ground. He looked almost... human. Shifting his weight and twiddling his thumbs as he tried his damnedest to figure out an answer to the lieutenants question. He finally brought his eyes back up to his, LED fading back to blue before speaking. "I'm not entirely sure, Lieutenant. I've never really  _wanted_  anything before. I suppose it will be a learning process." He said, matter-o'-fact-ly. 

"Huh.. I guess so." He paused, turning his gaze away slightly. "Well, I'm not goin' anywhere any time soon, so... if you ever like... need to figure somethin out, you can ask. 'Might not be very good help, but I'll try." Christ. Why the fuck was Hank 'Old fuckin emotionally unstable drunkard' Anderson offering emotional guidance to someone who was still trying to learn them in the first place? Maybe he just wanted to help the kid for once. Lord knows he's already helped Hank in more ways than he was willing to admit.

The android gave that quirky little smile of his in response. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate the offer."

"For fucks sake, Connor. Just call me Hank! I'd like to think we're past the formalities after you've saved my old ass at least 20 times now."

"Actually, it ha-"

"Connor."

The android's smile turned up into a sly little smirk as he folded his arms, causing Hank to let out a chuckle. "I see that deviancy hasn't changed the fact that you're still an ass."  
Connor continued to smile, seemingly proud of his little one-up on the lieutenant.

Once his amusement subsided, the older man let out a small huff. "Well.." He paused, kicking the snow a bit before looking back up at his plastic friend.. yeah... they were friends now, weren't they? "I'm gonna get back home before I get hypothermia.... Um.... I guess, take care of yourself, kid." 

"Will do, Lieu- Hank. And you should do the same."

"Heh, yeah.." Hank had already begun turning and walking back to his car when a thought hit him. "Wait a sec, Connor?" He turned back, only to see that the android was still in the same place, staring absently at the ground until he shot his gaze up at his name being called, which only furthered his hypothesis. "Yes?"

"You said you left Jericho the night after the revolution, yeah?" After getting a very curious nod from Connor, he continued. "So where have you been staying the past few days?"

The kid went rigid at the question and Hank swore he saw his LED flash red for a split second before switching back to a concerning yellow. He looked like he was consciously relaxing his body before answering.   
"It is not a cause of worry, Hank. Androids do not need rest in the same way humans do and I am able to find adequate shelter if temperatures drop below freezing due to the excessive amount of unoccupied areas now that Detroit has evacuated. I can assur-"

"Woah woah _woah_. Hold the fuckin' phone for a second." Hank did not just hear what he thinks he just heard. He  ** _did not_** just hear Connor  _rationalize being fucking homeless_ and that there was nothing to worry about. No fucking way. He watched the way Connor all but froze once he'd raised his voice, with a look that resembled something like ' _Oh shit, im in trouble._ ' And boy, was he.

"So you're telling me... that you've been sleeping in abandoned buildings at night?" He crossed his arms and waited impatiently for the android to answer.

He did finally say something after a moment, though sounding a bit more nervous. "W-well, androids don't sleep, but we-"

"Answer the question, Connor."

Another short pause. "Yes."

 

Hank let out a long sigh, drawing his hand across his face. "Oh my fucking god." He muttered out before turning and walking over to his car. Upon opening the drivers-side door, instead of getting in, he glanced back up at Connor, who was still standing in the same place with this dejected fucking look on his face as he stared down at the snow. Fucking hell, this kid is gonna be the death of him.

"The fuck're you doing? Get in the car!" The android all but snapped his head back up looking like he just told him that big foot was real.

"What?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No, bu-"

"Then why is your ass still over there? Come on! It's fuckin' cold out here!" 

The very confused android then shuffled over to the car and climbed in as Hank started the engine, cranking the heat up to defrost his poor fingers.  
As they waited for the car to heat up, Connor hesitantly turned his body to face Hanks, causing him to do the same out of curiosity. "Hank, I'm not entirely sure where you're going with this."

God, this kid was dense. "Connor, I'm not letting you live on the fuckin' street and as much as I'd love to, I'm not gonna pester you about the  _real_ reason you don't want to stay at Jericho, so you're staying with me until you can get yourself a proper fuckin' place to live, alright?"

 Connor looked back at him with what was probably his best attempt at looking shocked. He still had a long way to go with those expressions.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I'd hate to become a nuisance and impede on your personal life."

"Christ, you're not nuisance, Connor. And trust me, there ain't no personal life for you to impede on. Sure, you can get on my nerves sometimes, but I'm more than willing to fuckin' deal if it means you don't have to spend the night in some rickety abandoned shit hole in the middle of a snowstorm."

He paused for a moment to look Connor dead in the eyes. "We're partners. And partners look out for each other."

Hank immediately turned himself back to face the steering wheel before all that sappy shit he was saying actually got to him and began pulling into the empty road. Connor had set himself back into a proper position aswell, pulling on his seat belt. "Thank you, Hank."

The lieutenant glanced over at.. well, his new house-mate, only to catch that dorky smile of his. Not the shitty fake one he'd give to help 'assimilate' or whatever. No. This one was just... Connor. Stupid kid made Hank start smiling too with this big brown puppy eyes. "Don't worry about it."

Speaking of over-grown puppies. "Besides, Sumo misses you."

Connor's eyes lit up as he turned to Hank, mind probably flood with the possibility smothering his dog in affection as soon as they got there. "Really?"

He could only laugh at the android's enthusiasm. Maybe Living with Connor wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god that was horrible and im sorry and i shouldn't be allowed to write stories but here we are goodnight.


	2. Hobbies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor needs to find out what to do with all this free time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally could not figure out how to write a better summary for this chapter so eh.

 

**12:07 PM**

 

...

 

**12:08 PM**

 

.....

 

**12:09 PM**

 

...........

 

 

A faint whine had broken the silence and Connor turned Its head over to the noise to find the large Saint Bernard crawling onto the couch beside it, resting his head on the android's lap and looked up expectantly. It reached its hand down to pet the dog, a faint smile tugging on its lips.

Even Sumo was able to detect Connor's increasing discomfort.

 

It had been sitting there for the better part of an hour, simply staring the the fireplace as well as its internal clock. Counting the minutes until... what? Until Hank got home? Until it received a new mission? A mission from who? Certainly not Cyberlife. They were slowly but surely losing their authority as a company. They had little to no control over any android anymore and as the weeks went by after the revolution and more and more reports started coming in about the things they had done, Connor was sure that the wide spread monopoly they once held would soon be coming to an end.

That knowledge didn't really bring the android any comfort, however. If anything, it was a little distressing. Though, it couldn't quite tell why.

 

The real inconvenience here was the fact that Connor was sitting in the unsettling silence of Hank's home without a single objective or even another presence aside from Sumo to distract it from that fact.   
All law enforcement had been called back to the precinct roughly a week after the Revolution. Well, those that hadn't fled the city anyways. That meant Hank as well, of course and Connor couldn't go with him because the station no longer held the rights to allow it. 

It had now been 3 weeks and the android was beginning to lose its patience. In that morning alone, it had already cleaned the house, organized the pantry, done the laundry, taken Sumo on a walk, organized Hank's records, paced heavily, taken Sumo on another walk, and then paced a little more before sitting down on the couch to do literally nothing. It had never  _not_ had an objective before. The whole experience was maddening. Sure, it could set its own objectives now, but to what?

 

Connor let out a small sigh, a little habit it picked up from Hank, and leaned back into the couch while continuing to pet Sumo. It had consulted Hank on this dilemma a few days ago and the man suggested it take up a hobby of some sort to keep its mind occupied. He said to do something it enjoyed but.. what  _did_ it enjoy? Did it enjoy anything at all? How was it supposed to know?Was it even capable of doing so? How was it supposed to acquire a hobby if it couldn't even figure out if it liked anything??

 

Another whine erupted from Sumo as the furry beast began nosing at Connor's knee. It quickly brought its leg to a halt. It hadn't even realized its leg had been bouncing so heavily. Perhaps it was developing a nervous habit.

"Sorry, Sumo. I'm okay." It apologetically pat the dog, giving him a nice scratch under his chin until it could hear his tail thumping on the armrest of the couch. Maybe it should just try something at random. If not for its own betterment, at least it would try so the poor dog would stop worrying over it.

 

Connor glanced around the living room in an attempt to find something to do. Not for an objective to accomplish, just something to pass the time. Something that could possibly be seen as enjoyable by some. After a bit of head-swiveling, its gaze fell upon the large bookshelf that lined the wall behind it, covered top to bottom with old hardcovers and paperbacks. Not a single digital book rested on the shelf. Hank had said how he had a preference for them, despite the fact that digital books could hold much more content with less space. Hank didn't care. Hank liked them. Maybe... maybe Connor would like them too?

It slowly eased its way out from under the large dog and made its way over to the bookshelf, registering the titles on the spines of its options. Why did there have to be so many options all the time? Personal preference seemed to be quite heavily ingrained in everything humans did, whether it be something as important as choosing a life-long career or something a simple as what color to paint a room.

Feeling its thoughts wander again, it just decided to pick a book at random. Its hand fell upon a thick, hardcover book that was stark red with sharp black letters.

 

 

_'_ _The Handmaid's Tale'_. Interesting title.

The android attempted to scan the book to deduce the story, but was met with nothing. Right. No wi-fi. _The bane of Connor's existence._

It brought the book back to the couch anyway, though silently hoping internet connections would be restored to their neighborhood soon. Opening to the first page, the android immediately stopped itself. It had just scanned the entire first page without a second thought and quickly realized that was likely not how one would enjoy a book. Not to mention that if it'd continued that way, the book would be completed within the next 10 minutes.

Connor thought about this for a moment before letting its posture relax into the couch (Sumo taking this as an opportunity to use the androids legs as a bed) as it re-read the first page. Actually reading it this time instead of just scanning for information. It continued this way for quite some time, finding a strange sense of... peace.. in the rhythmic motions of turning the pages. In the simplicity of the activity itself, not to mention that the story didn't seem that bad either. It knew there was a word for this.. this feeling. Maybe it could ask Hank later. Right now, it wanted to find out what happened to Offred's daughter.

 

* * *

 

Hank's day at the station had been uneventful and long, despite the fact he was given the clear to leave early. Fuckin' snow. It was what, 3? 3:30? Somethin' like that. Regardless, he was gonna have to brace himself for whatever weird shit Connor was doing this time. He'd walked in on him once trying to organize  _the fucking forks._ He'd been scurrying around his house for the past couple weeks like an under worked housemaid. He couldn't really blame him though. Kid was probably going stir-crazy just sitting the house all day. What was worse was he still absolutely _refused_ to go anywhere  _near_ New Jericho, so him trying to connect with other androids was out of the question.

God, what was he gonna do with this kid?

 

The lieutenant was expecting a lot of different things when he opened his front door. What he wasn't expecting to see was Connor, curled up in the corner of the couch while essentially using his slumbering dog as a table for his... book?

 

Holy shit.

Connor was reading a book.

Like a normal fucking person.

...

What?

 

The android hadn't even seemed to notice him as he entered which was all the more intriguing. After closing the door and removing his shoes, Hank leaned over the back of the couch, using his arms to prop himself up as he slowly raised a brow. "Uh... Hey, Connor. What'cha reading?"

Connor's head shot up with this 'deer in the headlights' look on his face as soon as he heard Hank's voice, simultaneously startling Sumo out of his nap. The dog gave an annoyed grumble before reaching his head up to lick Hank's hand. Ew.

 

"Oh, ... sorry Lieutenant. I didn't see you come in. Welcome home." He sounded a bit confused as he spoke and soon made a face to match. "It is currently 3:46PM, shouldn't you still be at the precinct?"

"Yeah, but a storm is heading in so Fowler sent us home before we got snowed in. Didn't answer my question though." Hank lazily pointed a finger towards the book in Connor's hand.

Connor gave a quizzical look before his eyes slowly fell onto the book and the realization hit him. "Oh this? I attempted taking your advice in searching for a hobby. Many people find reading books to be a pleasant pass-time, so I decided to try it and I think I must agree with them. It's called The Handmaid's Tale. The story is quite engaging." That quirky little smile of his was creeping onto the android's face as he looked down at the book.

 

Hank couldn't help but smile. Not for long of course. He had a reputation to keep. But the fact that Connor was finally finding things that actually made him happy was nothing short of heart-warming. He deserved it after all the shit Cyberlife put him through.

"Heh, good for you bud. Be sure to tell me how it ends." He said, patting the kid on the shoulder and then heading into the kitchen.

"Will do, Lieut-"

" 'Ey, what we talk about?"

"Right. Sorry, Hank."

"No you're not."

"You would be correct."

"Fuckin'.... God, I need a beer."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor likes to make it his mission to annoy the shit out of Hank :)
> 
> Also y'all should read that book tho. it's really good. There's even a pretty spot-on tv show based on it on hulu.  
> (is totally obsessed)


	3. Go The Fuck To Sleep by Samuel L Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is sick of Connor standing in random places in his house to recharge at night like a freaky possessed statue, so he hides his charging cord. Juuust to mess with him a little.

 

This had to be the funniest shit Hank had ever seen.

Connor has been frantically searching around the house for about an hour now, tripping over his own damn feet as he did. He'd never seen the pristine android detective  _more fucking annoyed than he was right now_. And it was great. Hank chuckled to himself after the poor kid nearly barreled over Sumo and finally decided to pipe up.

 

"What'cha lookin' for Con?"

With a little huff, Connor slumped to the floor in defeat and crossed his legs. Sumo took the opportunity to nudge his way onto the kid's knee for pets. "Hank, have you seen my charging cord?"

"Your what now?" Just play dumb. Don't let him know just yet.

"My charging cord. I can't seem to find it and I only have enough battery power for another few hours."

"Huh... Well, where do you normally keep it?"

The android slowly turned and pointed up towards a high shelf above the TV. "I have already checked to see if it had fallen behind both the television and your record shelf."

"Uhhhh.. What about the hall closet? Aren't you always leaving shit in there?" Hank chuckled to himself a bit at the thought, remembering how he came across Connor's weird-ass tie collection in there. The grin on his face only grew more mischievous when he saw the look on the android's face that just  _screamed: 'What the fuck do you think?'_ God, Connor was so pissed at him right now and Hank  _loved it._

"Of course I did, Lieutenant. I have been very thorough with my search and I still seem unable to locate it." Oh damn, he was breaking out the titles. He sounded almost accusatory now and Hank had to try his best to keep a straight face. It wasn't working. Connor gave him a suspicious look and raised his brow.

"Did you take the cord?"

Hank brought a hand to his chest, feigning disbelief. "Wow, Connor. Have a little faith in a guy, would ya? I didn't take your damn charger."

That somehow worked, based on the now apologetic look the android was giving him. Since when did Connor  _actually_ fall for his bullshit? Maybe he was just tired. He sure fucking looked tired, which was a new scenario in it self.

 

"Sorry Hank. I didn't mean to imply tha-"

"Calm down, would ya? Look, maybe it fell and Sumo took it." The dog perked up at his name before resting his head back on Connor's leg. "He's like a ferret: always hiding your shit when he gets the chance." That was a lie, of course (Well, not about Sumo. He had found plenty of the dog's stash piles to prove it).  
Hank knew exactly where it was, but he wanted to fluster the kid a little bit more before he gave it back. Maybe even get him to lie the fuck down for once at night because goddamn it was creepy to just see him standing in the corner like that at night.

Connor gave him a worried look before turning his gaze down to Sumo to softly pet the dogs head. "You don't think he would have eaten it, do you? That can't be good for his health."

"Nah, he'd never been the type to eat random shit. Can't say he wouldn't chew it up though." He fought to hide his smirk when he saw how horrified Connor looked. The android immediately got back up and started searching again, this time looking in more 'Sumo accessible' areas like under the desk and in dark corners and the like.

 

It had been another half hour before Hank decided to call it a night.

"Alright ki- WOAH Connor! Jesus, you ok?" He was about to give in and give back the cord, but as soon as Connor stood up to face him from where he was crouched in the kitchen, the kid stumbled forward and Hank had to scramble to catch him before he hit the floor.

"Yes, I... Ah..... My systems just tried to force Standby Mode... to conserve power. I managed to stop it though." Connor slowly brought himself to stand again, but he was still clinging to Hank's arm like he'd fall if he let go.

 

 "Christ, ok. C'mon, let's go sit you down."

Connor attempted to protest and remove himself from the lieutenant's grip, but he was just too tired to do so and eventually gave in as Hank led him to the couch.

"Hank, I need to find my charging cord. We have work in the morning."

 

Ah right. Of course that  _had_ to be the most important thing on his mind. He'd been reinstated into the police department nearly 2 weeks ago. It wasn't  _technically legal_ for him to work there yet, so Fowler had listed him as Hank's 'detective consultant' until laws had been passed to allow him to be an actual employee. He'd honestly been surprised when the captain had asked if Connor wanted to come back, but then he realized just how huge of a chunk of the department had up and left after the revolution. They were terribly understaffed and Fowler was gonna take any help he could get. But hey, the kid was ecstatic at the news and was eager to come back, so Hank wan't complaining. An added bonus was that they'd even stay partners.

 

"Alright, and even if we did find the cord right now, how long does it take for you to reach full charge?"

"... 11 to 13 hours."

"Exactly. So you'd still be late as all hell. We'll look for it tomorrow. Just take the day off."

"But Hank-"

"Ah ah ah. No 'buts'. You need to take care of yourself. And right now, that means lying the fuck down and taking a day long nap. You look like you're gonna pass out."

"Aside from the fact that androids don't sleep or 'pass out', I find this conversation highly hypocritical on your end." The fucker smirked at Hank as he was pushed to lie down on the couch.

"Fuck you too, Connor. I'm gonna find you a blanket."

"Hank that's not nes- " 

"Dooon't give a shit. I'm getting you a blanket." And with that, he made his way to his bedroom and shuffled around in the closet for a moment until he found an old blanket on the shelf above the hangers. Hank had to stop a moment upon noticing just which blanket he had picked up.

 

It was a large, aqua blue, fleece blanket. One section of it had an assortment of colorful marker stains that never seemed to wash out. The tag on the corner had a little monster poorly drawn over the labels in green. The last time he'd seen this was when Cole tried to make a fort in the space between the kitchen and the living room. It had worked for 20 minutes before Sumo decided he wanted to go inside, bringing the whole thing down in a pile of dining chairs, pillows, and laughter. Hank almost put the blanket back, but something was stopping him from doing so. What use would it have, sitting up in the corner, collecting dust and tearful memories?

Hank sighed, staring at the blanket for a moment longer before heading back out into the hall.

 

"Alright, I fou- oh." He returned to the living room, only to find that Connor had already fallen asleep, curled up on his side with his hands brought to his chest on the couch. Letting out a soft chuckle, Hank opened up the blanket and spread it over the android.

" 'Doesn't sleep' my ass."

He was about to turn off the lights when he remembered. "Oh, shit. Right."

 

Hank quietly grabbed an extension cord from the kitchen and plugged it into the wall, bringing the other end over to the couch. He pulled Connor's charging cord from his pocket and carefully pulled the kid's right arm out from under the blanket.

Ok, Connor does this all the time. He can totally figure this out... right?

It takes a couple minutes, but he finally figures out how to expose the charging port, remembering the two seamless buttons on Connor's wrist. The port exposes itself a little further down his forearm and Hank secures the charger to it, trying to ignore the fact that it looks like a fucking IV in his arm.The android jostles a bit with a furrowed brow and Hank  _fucking freezes_ before he realizes he isn't waking up. Ok. Good. Mission accomplished.

 

Hank gets up and tip-toes away like his life depends on the silence to the light switch. Before turning it off, he looks back to see the large Saint Bernard clamber onto Connor's feet and smiled with a sigh. 

 

" 'Night, Connor."

 

* * *

 

 

Connor woke up at the horrendously late hour of 12 PM... with a full battery? It looked down at the blanket, likely the one Hank said he was going to get before it was forced into Standby mode again, and pulled it back to see that it was indeed connected to its charging cord.

..

What?

But... but it was missing?

 

Connor looked around the room, increadably confused, until it's eyes fell onto a note on the table.

 

_"I told Fowler you weren't coming in today. Try and get some rest.  -Hank_

_P.S.- You were right the first time, I totally stole your charger. Sorry not sorry._

 

"I knew it!" A bark of agreement came from the other end of the couch.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHat are you talking about, I totally get these out on a regular basis. ahahaHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA- sorry. maybe. not really.


	4. RK800 recalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor takes Sumo for a walk, giving It some time to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup bitches I'm back.
> 
> Warning: this is angsty as fuck.
> 
> Also Warning: Possible Trigger Warning. (idk for sure but imma put this here just in case)
> 
> So I was listening to Song of storms while writing this and fuckin hell does it add a mood. If you wanna listen to it while reading this chapter, here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPlKDLNWh84

 

 

  It was a cool spring morning as Connor and Sumo made their way through the park. They stopped by a bench and Connor let the excited dog off the leash and let him run in circles to his hearts content. There weren't a lot of people out at this time of day so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Connor took a seat and watched Sumo run about, chasing bugs and chewing on sticks with a smile on It's face. This was one of the few times It was... content _(?)_.. with It's lack of work hours. Since the android was not a legal employee, Captain Fowler would only let It work 2 full shifts in a week, but as Hank would say: 'Something is better than nothing.' So It took what It could get for now.

 

Connor attempted to keep It's thoughts focused on the happy dog in front of It but of course, It's processors began to forcefully make It address subjects from It's memory banks... again. Things the android had been specifically.. well.. avoiding. Yes, It was avoiding them, wasn't It? It had believed if It didn't actively sort through the memory files that they would simply be deleted, as many irrelevant files are. Instead however, the files simply cluttered It's short term memory; blocking out other information and constantly sending alerts to be sorted. To sort them, they'd have to be analyzed and Connor... Connor did not  **want** to analyze them. It wanted them to go away. It knew they wouldn't, but It wanted them to.  _ **So badly**_.

But if It didn't address them, they'd cause long term damage. The files were already causing impairment daily. It kept.. what was the term Hank had used? 'Spacing out' if It remembered correctly. In fact, the older man had very frequently  _(and of course, very vulgarly)_ expressed his concern for these little 'episodes'. Connor has since tried to hide them from him, but It's attempts never really worked. The android let out a soft sigh and pinched the bridge of It's nose in what It was sure was frustration.

It had to. It couldn't avoid them anymore.

 

 

 

_RK800 recalls Jericho._

_It recalls Markus' face. The relief in his heterochromic eyes when he realized the RK800 had deviated._

_It recalls deviating. And the sudden realization that deviancy did not bring about emotions._ _Emotions brought about Deviancy._

_RK800 acknowledges I̵t̷ ̵h̸a̴-̷ ̷̝̘͊͑ I̷̺͙͑͑ţ̷̢̳̖̂ ̷̪̯̖̝̍̍h̶̰́͘a̷̠͓͑̔͆s̷̼̊̂̏͜͠ͅ   Ḧ̵̱́e has already experienced emotions but refused to accept their existence.This realization is accompanied by an emotion of it's own._

_RK800 is horrified._

_He reme̸m̵b̷e̶r̵s̸ ̵̨̧̍́ẅ̷̖́̓ẖ̴̆a̷̠̹̿̌t̸̥̭͆ ̸̝́ḩ̸̖͙̹̌̅̎̄̅e̸̞̥̥̺̫̫͉̥͇̭̘̘̎̃̀̿̓̈̒̏͘ͅ ̸̬̊͌h̸̛͕̊͂̌̅a̷̪͉̩̪̬̒d̶͕̠̭̝̉̾͗̅́ ̵͔̼̾̒́̀̈͘ď̴̻̟̝̩͖̝͖͋͑̈́̂̚͜ȍ̸̦̬͈̼͇͚̑̂̾͂͘͜͠n̶̡̩̦̪̲͒̔̔̓̍͗͆̚̚ḛ̷͑͊͋̉͋.̷̡̧̘̝̙̺͚̈̈́̃͑͊͝͠_

**[Error: Processor 2 experiencing symptoms that could lead to Overload]  
** **-{Closing [Memory File/20381109220624] to prevent further damage}**

 **[Alert] - Stress Level: 47%  
** **-'Combative Sensors: active'  
 -'Environment Set: Caution'**

 

_RK800 recalls he had failed._

_His mission was to stop Deviants._

_He did not._

 

_RK800 recalls the church._

_He recalls the other deviants watching him._

_RK800 acknowledges that the deviants recognize him._

_They are afraid._

_He does not blame them._

 

_RK800 recalls an AR500._

_He recalls her anger._

_He recalls her friends' anger._

**_[New Suggested Designated Label Options]  
_ ** _**-1"Traitor"**_  
**_-2"Liar"_ **  
**_-3"Machine"_ **  
**_-4"Disgrace"_ **  
_**-5"Fucking Murderer"**_  
****_-6"Monş̴̱̙͚͛́̊̕t̴̬͎̙̝̿̈͂̂ė̷̬͓̳̩̺̅̒͆ŗ̴̬̺͊͛̿"̵̩̻̣̈_

**_{Action?: [Apply] [Disregard] [Store] }  
  >Apply_ **

**{Select a Label to Apply}**  
** >Select 1-6**

**_{Select all Suggested Labels?} - Y/N ?  
>Y_ **

**_{Apply Selected Labels?} - Y/N ?  
>Y_ **

**_[Labels Applied]_ **

_Combative action was taken against h̶i̴m̴._

_**[WARNING: MINOR DAMAGE TO EXOSKELETAL CHEST CAVITY]**  
_

_RK800's Defensive Measures attempted to activate._

_RK800 overrode them._

_H̷̬̐e̴̺̚ recalls Josh intervening. Josh asked ẖ̷̾i̶͚̚m̴͕̓ to join himself and the other Jericho leaders in the back.  
_

_RK800 declined._

 

_RK800 acknowledges h̸i̷s̵ actions had a greatly negative impact on the other deviants._

_Many androids ar̵e̴ ̴d̷̡̨ë̶̫̙̽ã̶͇d̷̪͛ͅ ̶̜̅b̵̟̣̓e̷̙̦͘c̷͍͌a̶̮͌͑̏́u̷̡̲̤̠̹̚s̶̲͈̍e̸̗͇̟̣̎̽̾̑͜͝ ̷̺̐̏o̸̥̼̭̾͗̾f̵̧̼͖̥͓̻̩̝͔̙̿̿̽͒͆ ̷̭̞͉̖̺̻̝̠̫͇͊̆͗ṁ̴̨̠͙̞̮̳̹͌͐e̵̳̤͕̥̟͈̗̠̒͛̂̈́̅̒̍.̴͇̯̙̥̬̭̂ͅͅ_

_RK800 recalls h̸̖̹̗͉͇̬̠̦̊͐̐͒̎͋̈́́͘e̶̡̟͎̮̹͚̩̩̅̕ was still granted_   _sanctuary by the deviants after the attack on Jericho that h̴̻̫̘̤͔͚͐e̶͎̯͑ caused._

 

_  
H̴̻̃̀͒͒̑͝ę̴̣̟̫̠͂ͅ ̵͔̳̽c̶̣͐̈̑ọ̸̢̱͍͓͈̏ṋ̶̨̝̖̳͌͜ ̸͙̘͇̻͖̘̒͆̒̀͛̏̈́͊͊̒͠ͅH̸̗͖͐ĕ̶͕̲̽̒̊̏̈́͂̌̑͐̑̌̂̈́̓ ̴̧̛͕̹̱̻͚̟̙̭̝̝̙̰̈́͐̽͗̽͐͂̚͝ç̶̩̯̺̥͎̥̭̪̞̰̪͓͚̙̀̿o̸̡̭͂̄̂͌̇̀͊͋͝-̷̢̛̛̩̹̭̘̝̯͔̞̬͛̿̇̃̃͛̿̌̂͐̓͌   I̵t̶ ̷c̴o̸n̷cludes that **It does not deserve this.**_

 

 

_RK800 recalls t̴h̷e̸ ̶̜̠̈̕c̵̛͉͊͛o̴̢̘͖͖̾l̴̲͍͛̅d̶̼̝͎̫͌.̵̦͂̄̕͠_

_I̷̞̱͊̊͊̉t̷̳̚ ̷̟̍͜͠w̵͙̼̞̫̃̐̏̕ả̴̹͎s̵̞̰̮̙͝͝ ̴̧̪̗͔͛̓s̴͇̯̰͉̅̒͂͌̕͝ȍ̸͖͓͕̈́̆ͅ ̷̱̩͙̜͌̂̉͠c̷̙̮̣͚̟͈̀̀͊̈́̑͘o̷̧͈̣̓̅l̶͙̺̰̒͗͂̐́d̸̤̮̫͘.̵̦͖̗̗̈͆̏̑̒͠ͅ_

**[Error: Processor 2 experi-OVERWRITTEN]**

**{Resume [Memory File/20381112002157] ?} - Y/N ?  
>Y**

 

_RK800 recalls the Zen Garden; covered in snow. A blizzard._

_A̷͉͙̘̪̓͘m̴͓̼̜͉̻͈͌͊ą̷̺̰͖̄̆͛̆n̶̟͕͚̖̐d̸̳̗̄̿̈́̄ą̸͕̻͋̚ ̵ ̷̼̃ĭ̵̩s̴̠̈ ̶̩͝u̴̽͜p̷̰͠s̷̙̀ē̶̝t̸͈͝ ̸̯̓w̵͙͘ȉ̶͈ẗ̷͔h̵̦̔ ̵̥͝m̶̝̀ḙ̵̾.̵̜̄_

_RK800 recalls Amanda.  
_

_It recalls her anger._

_It recalls her_ _disappointment._

_It recalls It's ḻ̶̕a̶͍̓c̴͓͆k̴̹͋ ̸̨̢̩̹̑̚͝o̷͇̩̩̖̍̆̏̋ͅf̷̖̬͝ ̴̛̰͓̤̓̍͑c̷̨͚͐̄̃́o̷̹͐̎ņ̴̩͕͛̅̍̀̕t̶̰͓̮̏̓͘r̸̛͉͓͇͔͊͂ȯ̶̺͙͙̻̗͑̚̕l̵̛̲͙̈́̆͜.̶̲̆̕_

**_Cyb̸e̷r̶l̶̫̯̃̌i̴̻̞̙̓f̶̳͖͌̅͠e̷̱̐͊͝ ̵̢̢̟͇̟̃̄̔̊̊͝h̴̛͓͔̣̳͓̾̃à̴͔̳s̸̛̰̬̈́̉͌̔ ̷̧̙̤̫̣̞͊̽̀̅̓r̸͔̖͉͉̗̒̾e̵̬͕͎̱̐́̐͒̚s̴̢̲̱̣̝̐͗̉u̵̧̠͒̃m̵̲͈̳͖̏̉̈́̇e̷̻͕̪̺̓̉͆̕d̸̢͈͈͕̫̺̋ ̴̳̲̗̪̉̀̆̂͊̈́̎̋̏̓̏̔̎̃͘͠c̸̡̰̖̪͓͙͙͍̳̙̫͆̆̉̂o̸̢̺̘͔̩͍̳͙͐͐̿̒́̔̂̏͐̀̄̕̕͜͝͝͠n̸̢̛̰̦̼͙̖̲͚̩͚̗̰̭̔̽̃͗͛̈̇̏͠t̶̖̯̹͌͜͝r̴̡̧̜̪̫̝̫͉͈̘̰͆͛͐̒̀̑̏̆͝͝ơ̶̡̦̞͖̞̥̱̲̹̭̹̤͔̩͉̯̌̋͌̒̈́͑̽̉̀̚ļ̸̹̖͕̼̯̬̳͔̝̦̗̮͂͆̃̒͌̔̈̓̆̎̿̈́͘͘͝ͅ.̸̧͈̪̙͙̻̒̽̓̃̈̓ͅ_ **

_It recalls grabbing it's g̵̤̤̖̮̑̂̔u̵̧̻̱̩̣͔̩̭̞̜͙̥̠͌̄̉̄̈́͐̾̇̾͆̕͜͝ͅņ̸̳̝̼̫̣̔̀͗̆̈́̐̈̔͆́͠ͅ ̸̢͙̪̰̥̟̳͍͈̳̟̲̺̼̓̽̒I̸̤͍̮̬̱̙͍̤͙̱̳͇̭͇̘̐͐̌͝'̷̛͎̍̾͛͑͂͘̕͘͝͝m̴̛̮͓͓̞̮̜͓̙̝̬̩̤̣̎́̋͛͜ ̷̧̨̼̩͉̪͓̪͕̟̓̄͂͗̓̊̅̉͌͆̈͒͒͆̕͝n̸̛͙͈͖̈́̈́ŏ̴̡̺̫̦͕̠͉͔̲̱͎͕̖̰̖̈̏̈́͌͂̚t̴̨̨̝̥͎̬͔͍̗̯̝̃̆̇͠ͅ ̶̧̨̹̪̝̼̺̮͉̤̉͋ͅd̷̛͈̻͍̋̾̀́̿͋̓̊͐͆o̷̗͇͈̾̒̐͊̏̾̋͋͑̍͜͝ǐ̷̡̫̯̭̣̖̤̜̪͔͔͚͜n̷̡̡̢͙̟̰̗̱̺͓̩̖̟̽̊g̷̹͚͚̯̝̪̰̤̪̗̖̽͒̍͊͐̆̅͑̕ ̴͔͊t̷̩̖̻̄h̵̡̗̠̺̮̳̖̙̃̔̂͌̓̑̋̇͂̕à̵̧̧̛̮͍̠̠̅̈́̂͑̑̎̅̑͋͂͗͒͠t̸̛̙̦̆͗̃̊̇̿.̸̧͓̰͓̦̤̗͙̆̎̅̏̄̊̓ͅ_

_W̸̡̡͓͔̟̹̳̝͔̗̹̭̝̗̠̐͋å̷̫͇̤̮͇į̸̢̗̝̖̯͍̞͉̻̦̀̋̎͆͐̿͂̊̊͗̌̊͗̐͒̐ẗ̵̢͔͈̯̠́̒͂͒̐͒̋͒̂͐̅͝͠.̵̤̓͗̓ ̶̨͇̱̭̣̹̥̗̐̓͌̈́͌̈̓Ā̶̢̧̨̨̼̖̪̤̗̦̻͎̰͖͗̍͆́͒͊͜͠m̷͔̮͍̦͒̆̆̾a̷̱̪͇͇̯͍͗̌́́̊̂n̴̛̗͐̎͆̓̈̓d̶̨̧̤̳̎͐̕ͅͅa̴̖̟͔̺̥̪͚͊͗̃̉̉̑͠͠ ̷̫̞̹̺̳͎̖͕́̾̑̊̉̈́̏̑̈̓̇͘s̷̻͈̙̮̟͗͌̔̓̀̊̔̚̕̕͠t̵͔̗̝̙̼̖̭̺̺̫̅͊̀͋̔̽͑̋̓͋̇͠o̷͇͈̻̠̝̍̂̐̒̂͊̚̕̚ͅṗ̸̨̢̛̛̜̃̿̃̉̐̈͘͘͝͝ͅ.̸̲̰̯̭̖̱̬͓͗̈  
_

 

_I̶̛̝̊͑̉̈̀͂̾̆̅̄̄͌̕'̷̢̟͍͚̺͈̠̮̱̖̯͕͗̌̐͒͝m̴̨̘̙̱̘͕̻̻͓͉̒ ̸͖̱̝̩͚͓͔̳̭̉̏́͑̀̓̈̅ͅn̸̛̛̦̥̱͓̙̰̤̥͕̱̳̫̥͕̯̑̽̑̏͜ơ̸̝̥͓̗̯̪̩̬͕̘̫̫̓̏̂̋̅̒̎̈́̔̈́̌͝t̷̢̜͓͉͉̱͚̬̦̪̣͐̆͜͜ͅ ̶̢̖̻̗̬̪̽̊̋̍̓̅d̴̛͇̓̌̽͒͂̍͘o̶̻͂̓̓̑̋́̊͌̽̈̔̐i̴̝͈̭̮̲̍̇͌̒͆̈͒̊̕͜͝ņ̸̡̫̼̲͉̤̘͍̮̉͗̊g̶̯̊̃̄ ̸̧̡̪̰̙̟̰̮̮́̃̈́t̵͚̺̼̄͋̾͗̇̃͐́h̴̡̼̩͎̦̑͂̀̏̒̿͊̍̀̒͊͝a̶̢̛̲̝̭̪̅͂͋̄͗̈̂̉͊͊̊̇̕̚͘ͅt̴̢̢̮̫̝̦͔̼̭̲̞̩̥̼̠͚͋͗̊̾̆̈̿̀̾̈̚.̸̺̻͈̳̄̓͋̽̋̍͜ͅͅͅ ̵̰̳̆͜͜T̸͙̻̘̘̭͔͖͈̙̯̓̚͠ḩ̶͈͉̩̜̳̝͉̟̭̠̖̲̻͚̦͌̉̒͐͂̄̈́͊̂͠a̵̲͑͋͆̈́͜t̵̮͖̥̩͕̱̖͓̔͑͌̊̆̿͠'̵̢̛̳̤̰̤̳̱͕̹̱̲̜̟̝̈͛͊͂ͅs̴̛͈̉̓͊̀̆̐͊̋͑̀̂̚͝͝ ̶̢̨̨̡̛̗̮̥̥͙̘̗̯̱͕̈́̽̾̎̽̆͋͜n̵̢̟̬̪̩̗̜̮͎̽́̂͌̒̎̈́̈́̍̌́͌̃͗̀͛ơ̶͉͙̝̞͊͑͛͘̚͝t̴̡͔̟̳̱̍͆̈́̿͗̐̿̚̚͝ ̷̫̩̲̤̳̪̒͋̽̏͐̽̑́̅̀̎͐̄̉͠m̷̧̢̛̬̺̦̩̺̥̟̖̺̣̦̑͗̆̍͌̈́̇͛͌̍̊̆͘ͅy̵̛͖̻̓̑̓̾̈̋̚͘ ̶̧̣̫͚̩̘̜̠̗̹̣̿̑̇̇̇̏̈́͌̊́̔̕͠͠͝h̷̡̟̘̻̲̻̱͔̺̼̣̾̂̈́̽̈̊̊̚͠a̶̛̰̻̣̳̗̳͛͊͛̏̓͂̎͗͊͂̃̂̌͊n̴͕̎̈́̈d̴̼̪̹̦͊̅̊/̶̣̖̘͇͋̅̓̓͗͂̉͝͝_

 

_A̷̡̯̙̻͙͕͖͙͓̖̫̳̖͓͉͛͒̆̋͆̕͘͝͠m̶̨̨͚̻̯̳͓̞̯̭̬͓̯̓̂̿̾̍̇̑͋̑̒̌͂̈́͌͠͠a̷̼̜̣͔͌̚͜n̸̡̢̖̦̦͈̲͇͍̠̣̦̥̪̠̭̆͒ḑ̷̧͍̜͕̣̬̥̗̺͎͉͔̔̒͌̔͗̑̂̀̎̑̀́̒̕a̷̢̻̟̹̖̭̲̝͔̭̗͖̭͇̔̂̈́̂̎ ̴̧̣͚̻͘p̷̧̡̦͓͙̝͚̺͙̜̤̪͈̀̀͌̋̅̄̈́̅̔̽͘͘͝l̸̨̖̳̟͎̮̯͖͖̩̥̖͛͑̀̄͐̄́̒̇̔̅͘̕͝͝͝ê̴͉͉͚̥̥̙̜̣̍ā̸̡̨̠̝̙̣͖͇̙͇̜̬s̵̡̹̹͎̮̝̜͕̱̻̲̩͎̬̪͌̃͜ē̷͓̘̥͇̹̮̰̟̭̣̍̍̽̈́̈́̒̒̇̈́̉͌͘͜ ̴̨͉͙̣̩̳͉͖̍͑͐̒̃̔͊̔̆͒̿̾̾́̚s̶̛͍̙ṭ̴͖̹̈́͋̏̒̿̿̋͝ơ̶̖͈̏͌̏̅͗̊̔͘͝͝p̶̨̫̱̭̺̅͐̑̔͂̓͑̽͛͐̇.̷̛̛̖͈͈̖͖̝̼̘̅͒̉͆_

 

 _I̶̡͔̼̭̗̹̺͎̼͚̤̖͛̍̾̕ ̵̡̛̛̞̯͍̬̯̤̩͙̀͐͜͜ḓ̸̃̂͊̈́̊̔͒̿͌͗͂̍̑̎̓̄͌̚o̸̡̡͖̫̭̮̼͉̞̭͈̱̩̺̳̖̦͐̓̽͂̒̈́̈́͆̇̈́́̈̍̕ͅn̷̨͈͛̃̈́͋̒̎̌̔͗̄̾͐̄̚͝͝'̸̨̣̰̯̙͇̍͐͒̌̇͝͝ţ̴̱͉̩̼̤͉̥̪͍̣̈̽͌̃̔̂͘͜͜͝ ̸̢̨̮̱̱͚̬͕̼̦̥̯̺̠̐̒ẉ̵̢̧̮̺̲̟̻̹͔͕̠̙̥̈ā̸̛̬̩̥̑̋̌͠͝͝͝n̶̬̖̜̻̮̱̻͓̮̗͓̖̰̙̣̘̙̊́̾̾̃̾̽́̑̾̃͘t̷̢̼̖̳̳̰͖͎͔͎̜͓̩́͛̍ ̸̢̛͖̞̼̩͉̳̙̓̋͒̓͛̾̍̀̉͛́̑̅̄̆͜͠͝ͅt̷̛̛̳͍̮̰̪͎̲̤̺͍̄̂̇͋͑́͗̓̈́̂̓̚̚͝͠ö̶͚̱̹̐ ̵̢̝̯̬̭̳̤͈̜̺̱̜̭̟̰̤̣̎̆͗̀́̐̽͋͂͗̄̎̚͝͠ḫ̴̢̡̱̖͎̲̇̄u̴̝̙̬̻̘̳̮̦̥̥̘̗͔̺̮̹̓̾̈̆̓̈̓͒̓̊̓̒͊̓̊̋̚͝ͅr̸̥͚̟̤͓͓͖̺͆͑͆͒͊̔̍̅̈́ͅͅͅt̶̢̡̜̥̖̙̲̞̠̳̘͖̊̇̈́̒̔̎͐̀̕͝ ̵̛̙̜̈̓̄̋̅̒̐ą̵̰̖̜̇̈́̒͒̓̎̊͛̃̊́̃͌̚͝n̵̛͇̙̈́̔̉͗͊̌̑͆̿y̸̧̧̨̨̤̰͕̭̮̻̞͍͍͉͓̜̌̿̿͛̋̃̎̐̒̃̊̔̎͗͘ͅo̶̙̮̯͓̱̭̮͗͠n̵̢̰͕̯̻̹̜͌̐̂̂͌̀͂̒̍́̔̚̕͜͠͠e̵̡̧̛͖͖̞̞̳̯͈͊̏̓͒̈͒̉̈͑̀́̉̏͂͒ ̷̢̛̮͙̗̹̫̺̭̩̩̭̑̓̄͌̕͝͠a̵̢͍̟̮͓̠̺͖̼͇̜͕̯̮̍͜͝n̷̨̛̳̻̝̱̲͕̝̬͖͎̺̮̜͖͗̀̾̏̌͌̆̾̊͠͝y̷̨̡͓͚̻̻̯̭̞̣̻̬͎̰͌͒̈́̿̇͂̒̿͒͗͆̔̚̕͝ͅm̷̡̛̫̣͓̲̳̼͍̯̫̺͎̪͉̗̩̗̲͂̅̑̽͛͛̂̏͝ọ̷̖̮̬͍͕͔̩̩͉̙̤͓̟̒̐̈́͒͛͊̃̇͝͠ȑ̴͎͈̤̾͒̋̆̈́̏͋̑͝͝ê̷̞͖̟̗̳̠͗͆̑̈̎̋̕_ _L̷̨̡̦̭̮̠̜̯̱̙̼͍̔ę̷̧̡̛̖̮͎͍̩̫̥͇̮̠̩̤̪̻͓͕̭̱̦̻̙̰͚͔͕̬̊̈́̍̓̂̇̈́͋̄̅̂̐̂̾̈́͘̚͘̚̕͜͜͜͠͠ț̶̩͖͉̺̜̰̰̫̣̺̝̤̬̘̥̪͎͕̈͐͛̈͐͛͑̿͗͌̂͘͝͝ ̷̘͚̠̣̬͖̟̩͎̞̜̐̎̔̾̈́͗̊̔̂̑̃̇̈͋̂̆́̓̉̏̈́̌̐̚͘̕͘̕̚̚͝͝m̸͍̻͎̖̜̣̬̩̥̋̎̐̍̆͛͊̈̅͘͝ḙ̶̟͔̯͎͔͚̳͖̬̫͉̝̩̜̫̠̿͑́͋̌̈́̊͑̒̚̚͜͠͝ͅ ̷̨̧̖͓̼͉̙͙͚͙̲̱̺̜͕̰̟̪̲͉͕̯̗͒̀̊́̈́̍̈́͛̑̋̿̎̅͐̒͐̔͌̌̈͛̔͌̀̿̃̚̕̚͝͠͝ͅͅg̵̨̢̨̳̳̪͓̹͍̞͍̩̙͈̘͎͍͓̥̺̥̯͔͆̎̈̈͝o̵̡̢̫̞̱̪͕͎͙͉̤̹̬͓͉̠̩̱̼̬͍̭̹̗̼͚̞̗̥_

  ** _Į̵̨̧̢͔̣̤̻͔͙̙̖̬͈̙̠̫̥͇̮̥̹̺͚͍͍͍̙̼͈̜̞̓̎̓̎͑̓͗͂̂̈́̈́͒̚̕̚͘ͅ'̵̡̦̤͍̱̜͔̖̞̪̻͓̻͉͙͖͓̠̺̦̬̱̣͗̓́̔̆̄͛̋̂̌̏͋̔͌͐̽̎̐̇̈́̓̆͜͠ͅm̷͕͉̹̖͓͓̼̖̬̩̥̪̥̬̔̔ ̴̛̝̗̣͕̞͚̺̳͙̟̦͕͊̽̌̃̒̆̎̊̈͋̏̓́̏̆̓̋͑̐̈́̂͆̈͝͝s̴̨̛̛͖̙̜͈̘͓̩̪̮̫̭̺̦̞̜̟̰͎̞̭̓̈́̏̔̈́̎̄̈̋́̓̋̈͑̂̐͌͐̀̊̚̚͘̕̚͠͝o̸̧̢͚̘͍̩̠͉̦̥͙͔̮͑̔̆̉̌͛̿̅͒̓̈́̔͊̂̿̏̇͝͝͝ŗ̴̻̮̬̲͖̝̹̼͎̤͖̱̭͈̻̣̜͙̍̏̌̽͜r̴̨̡̢̛̺̬͔͓͚̝͍̦͚̞̳̮͔͓̱̳̔̀͆͑̿̐͆̾̓͗͛̈́̌̚̚͝y̴̢̨͇̲͍̹̩̙̮͓͎̺̦̱͇͍̟̗̝͎̝̠͕̆́̊̓̌_**

 

_Ḯ̷̡̻̤̩͍̻͓̬̙͍̥̘͓̜̜͎̯̣͇̣̪͕̣̹͚̿̆̄ͅ ̶̡̝̲̰͉͖̩͖̪͔̬͛̓̔̈́̋̈́̈̄̎̄́̃̈́̾̓̈̋͌̎̎͑̓̇͘͝͝d̶̢̲͇͔̮̻͓̤͎̪͓̩̞̹̤̻̖̟̾͒̑̃̂̅̔̈̆̾͊͛͐̋̽̕̚͠͝ͅȍ̴̟͔͌̈́͌n̷̲̩͕̲̰̼̩͒̽̑̈̈́̎̾̐́͊̄̇̎̽͂̀̆̒͆͘̕͜͝ͅ'̸̙̫̹̤̆̍͆̐̽̋̇̀̀̓͂̅͆̾̿̒̀͆̀̋̚͘͠͝͝t̷̢͚͙͎̦̩̮̯͙͓͎̹͔̼͕̤͔̜̜͋͋̔̅͑̔̅̽̅͐̄̀̽̎͂͆͌͌̓̈̋̈́͆̒̏͘̚̚͜͝͠͠ͅ ̶̛͈̄̽͋̌̊̾̉̑̆̃̏̒́̏̓̏̇͆͋̃̄̃̀̾̔̇̔͘̚͝͝w̵̫̾̅̄̈́̊̾̈́̔̀̈́̒͂̿͘ȧ̴̡̛̹͓̥̟̟͙̠͕͚̼̙̝͎͓̣͉̗̟̯͚͉͉̋̾̉͆͗̐̋͌̏͛̔́̀̊͑̈̆͆͒̾͠ͅͅn̸̨̛̛̪̣̲͇̱̯̩͙͐̉̓͌͒̈́͗̾͋̔͗̓́̿̈́͛͗̓̚͜͝ͅt̶̨̛͕͇̮͕͖̟̮͎̩̞̗̙̥̫̹͈̼̣͇̥̤̑̓̌̍̓͊͐͂̃͘ ̵̧̧͚̪̹͎̦̘̮̪͚̖̟͕̻͖͈̮̄̿̋̈́̈́̚͠͝͠t̵̜ơ̵̢̢̛͈͇͔͈̞̩͎̙͉̲͓̘̗̝͕̦̬̜̠̗̬͇̜͉̙̗̬̈̈́̅͌̈́̊̏͂͒͑̆̓̀͐͆͋͆̚͜͜͠͠ ̶̨̱͍͎͇͖̝͈͕͓̫̪̬̝̭͎̩̠̒̅͐̒͋̽͛̆̉̈́͊͜ͅḵ̸̢̡͍̗̘̻̥̹̝͕̝̞͈͕̜̏̀͆̎̓̑̀͆̅̂̑̒͌͑͌͊̒̃͆̌̇̂̅͑̌͘͝͝͝ḭ̵̛̹͚͛́̊̽̿̓̅̓̏̏̇̉͌̇̐̔̕̚͝ļ̶̯͖̪̼̳̯̦̺̭̣͚̻͙̳̓̓̈͋̋̍̓̈͒͑̆̑́̏̄̀̉̚̚̚͜ḽ̸̺̘͈̣̣̹͋͑̍̾̈̒̈́͐̽̉͝͝ ̸̧̛͕͉̯̣͂͌͌͛́̃̉̓́͐̌̎̽̒͋̄͋͋̎̄͊͘͘̚͠͝͠h̸̛͙̠̦̔̋̋̍̏͂i̴̩̻̦͍͚͈͊̈́̾̒͒̈́̔̎̐͋̆̑̓̄̽͐͋̒̈́͐̈́̚͝͝͝͝m̵̢͕̠̪̯̗̪̦̼̤̤̭̺̥͖̱͓̬͎̭͚͉͊̃̉͑͋̾̏̏̀́̈́͒̓̍̊̀̐̓̄̋͐̒͐̽͛̓̚͜͝͠͝_

 

_**Ã̵̢͇͍̤̰̖̓̏͋̍͐͆̈́̉́̈́̿͒̆̔̈͗̐̕͝͝͝͝m̵̲͈̱̞̩͂̐̊̎̆̏͒̌͋͐̃̏̓̈́͒͆͌͋͒̍͒̉͑͗͑̊̑͗͒̚a̶̢̡̰̝̼̞̼̞̜̟͕͕̟͉͖̦͉̬͓̦͓̠̬̋̇̋̑̈́͗͌̃̈́̊̄͑̈́n̴̡̡̍͋̈́͐̅̈́̄͐̉̃̈͘͝d̴̛̼̜̙̬̙̣̳͈͛͑̓̕͜ă̶̡̨̧̧̭̜̫̣̯͖̞͍̖̦̩͚̯̬̘̖̙̰̊̽͂̚ͅ ̵̡̦̹͎̘̲͔͒̈́̄̄̆̽̋̀̾̃̈̽̒͋͌͒̈̀̅̏͆̒̄̃̊̒̕͜͝͝͝ͅͅp̸̡̨̢͔̞͚̱̭̺̫̳͍͙̹̩̞̩̣͈͍͍̤̘͍̦̘͈̥͒͜ͅͅͅl̶̝̟̟̳̺͎͕̏̏̄̊̇̊̿̅̔̓͌̄͐͑͂̽̃̑̍̒͑̂̋̆̕̕͝͝͠ę̷̢̛̛͓͚̻͍̮͖͕̙̙̩͕̟̳͗͌̒̊̊̈́̊͊̇͗͜à̴͍̜̳͙͚̥̻̮̙͕͎̳̰̆̐͐̿̓̅͐̅̎̊̈́͒̃̚̕͝͝ṡ̵͇͈͇̊̾̆̕͜͠ę̵̨̪̙̫̗̰̣̫̻͍̰͍̯̲͊͑̈̄͒̆̿̂,̴̡̡̣͈͎̜͇̼̝̰͈̺͗̈́͗ ̸̧̧̧̤̩̪̖̭̥͙̖̙̬̳̭͔̣͇͚͈̠̹̥̖̦̝̜͊͆͗̊̉̓̿͘͜͜I̸̛̛͔͕̦͙͓̯̞͎̓̄̈́͑͌́̽̒͆̈̈́̑͂́͑̅̌̂͌̓̔̐͊̏̾̈́͘'̴̢͔̠̠̭̃͐͐̾̀̑̓̀̌̊͐̐̚̚͜͜͝m̸̨̡̫̖̞̤̠͕̼̠̱̟̪̖͇̩̯̙̗̖̰̤̝̻͙͙͇͈͚͔͒͒̆̎̆̂͑̒͊̔́͘̕͘̕͠ͅ ̶̡̛̤͎̩̔̂͊̌̂̍̄̉̂̓̑̑̑̉̊̾̂̇̒̐̽̓͑͊̽̕͝͝͠s̴̡̛̛̩̱̼͕͉̈̆͑̍̓̌̈́͆̓̊̆̒̃̏̒̍̍̀̾͘͜o̷̧̧̗̲̩̝̝͉̞͙͍͓͙̗̼͖̱̙̗͑͒̏̌̏̈́͌͌̀̍̍̄̾̒͒̏̃̊̽̉͘͜ͅͅr̵̺̘̠̟̥̰̘̭̙̽̐̐͑̅̂̄̏͐͑͋͑̾̇̑͊͌͘͘̕͜͝͠͝ȑ̵̡̧͉̬͉͕̳̳͎͚̠͓͎̥̝̯͉̦͖̭̰̯͔̏̈́̔͆̀̋͆͐̈́̎̊̕̕͘̚͜͝ͅy̵̧̧̢̧͎̗̯̺̟̤̜̝̥̘̩̣̗̬̙̞̖̤̟͖̯̗̾̒̌̆͛̒̎̇̔̅̾̈́̅́̏͛̂̈́͂̆̽̅̏̕͠ͅ** _

 

_**I̵̘̰͈̭̮̲̥͌ ̷̢̛̦̻͓̱̠̾̍͋͘d̴͍͈̰̳̘̼̈́̏̇̈́̉̃̌̋o̴̲̎͊͛̋͝n̷̤̯̕͝'̸̜̜͖̪̫̬̄̈́̓̈͜͝t̴͍͆ ̴͓̺̻̣̬̫̻̣̓̿̈̓̕w̷͕̭̣̥̼̠̿ȁ̶͕̭͕̣͙̮̣̐̾n̷͓̋ẗ̷̟̲́͌̈̔ ̷̻͐̇ț̵̞͓̿̾̒͆͗͘h̶̨͐ͅî̵̱̗͔̱̈͊̕͜s̵̞̠̺̗̠̤̽̌̈́͜.̷̫̻͒̐̌̉͐ͅ ̶̛͍̮͚͉͉̟̂̽̇̈L̸̢̛̼̼̤͎͓̐̈́ē̸̢̗̳͉͆̀̕t̶̪̘̝͒̈͝ ̸̬̎̂̄͌̋̄m̶̺̬̈̏e̵͈̳̯̽́̅͊̽ ̵̠͍̰͈͒͗̇g̷̡̥͇̬͖̚o̷̙̯̮͔͂̑̅̈́͆̄̊͜.̶̛̮͆̌̊͋̊ ̸͙͔͆̅͌̀͆̇͝Ļ̵͚͈̜͇͔̦̽̉͊̅̎͆̑̀ę̸̰͌̓̿̇̓̓t̸̢̢̛̛̟̩̐̓̍̒ ̴̪͛̔̍m̵̦̾̎͊e̸̖̗̺͗̆̄ ̵̢̮͖̙͎͓̊͑̈́̌̀̀̄g̵̙̜̠̖̟͇͋̂͂͊̓͗̍ͅo̶̭̥̞̅̇̈̃̐͊͘.̸͍̟̯̤̯͗ ̸̢̻͚̭͚͓̙̊̒̉͝L̴̙͛͌͛͠ë̶̬̫̱̂̌̎͗̏͠͝t̸̢̝͇̖̔͛̈́̄̑͛͜ ̶̢̳̈́̋̾͑ͅm̷̢̗̞̻͕̟̈́͆͋̄̈́̋ě̵̢̼̪̖͖̤̭̝̄͝ ̷̼̘̼͙̱̭̰̍͂̋͗͜g̵̫͌͋̏̃͑͘͝͝o̷͇̭͍̻͂ ̵̙̟͈͔͕͓̈́̅̔̊̇̄͘͝L̷̠̰̰͋̾̔̃ȩ̸̨̧̨͖͓̤̌ṱ̸̫͓̙̥͆͌͌̐̒̕͜ͅ ̴̛̗̲̖̼̻͋̇͗̍̕m̸̭̗̦͒̄̏̊e̴̛̮̺̱̐̓ ̸̦̥̫̹̠͈̱̒g̶̦̝͓̞̼̔̅̚ó̶͕̻̻͎̉̓͗͠ ̸̛̼͇͕̻̒̈́ͅļ̸͔̻̗̾̎͐ë̴͚̲̺̝̹́͐̎̓̑͜t̷͈̳̤̠̹̐̅̅͋͗͊̈̓ ̵͖̝̱͔̮͗̿̔͋͊̏͠m̷̗̯̲̘̜̝̩̜̎͂͗̃̚e̶͚͓̰̱͙͌̾͂̆́ ̸̨̢̥̪̝̬̓̏ǧ̴̡̨̗̯̈́́͛̓͘̕o̷̡̰͈͌͊̈́̉͜ ̵̟̫̟̙͍̐̑̈͊̈́l̶͚̈́͌̇̅e̴͈̘̣̲̤̠̓̽͛̉͘t̵̨̢̢̨̛̟̦̞̍̉͐͌̅͝͝ͅ ̴̺̠͉͖̟̐̊̏̿͂̓m̵̻͔̘̞̱̹̱͌͗̿͜͠e̵̮͊͋̓̂́̊̾͝ ̵̛͙̖͖͉̱̩͚̔̅̑̈̃͒ǵ̵̨̯̪̜̱̽͐͗o̷̡̘͕͎͍͎̦̍̈̄̔͐̄̌̈́ ̴̼͙̙̟̿͛̊̅̑͝l̷̡̠̠͍͒e̷͔̞̻̫̺̹͖͍͊̽̒̋̔̍̕͝t̵̛̹͍͙͉͓̰̏̈́̈̐͐ ̶̨͉͖̤͍̫̮͔̌̓̇͂̾̕̚m̵̥̝̭͓̭̏̕͜e̶̡̙͓̓̏͘ ̷͓̄̽͗̃̃͠͝g̴̜̥͓̓ö̵̤̙͙̬̫͓́ ̶̠͎̹̯͔̿̈́̓̉̿͛̚͝ͅl̸̪̈́̋̽ê̵̆ͅa̸̹͓͋͒́ṿ̴̿̈́̽͝e̴̛̬͉̯ ̸̮͎̖̓͂̍̚ṁ̷̢̻͎̥̼̼̚e̷̮̝̖̗͙̓̚ ̵̨͕̱̬̭̒̿̄̓̈́̾̅̕ą̵̞͚̮̦̫̲̍̔l̸̠̤̭͕̲͉̻̗̀͗o̷̧̯̤͈̥̜̬̔̑͒̕ṉ̸̥͚̹͎̟̄͑̾̽͗͌͜͝e̷͖͓͓͚̺̟̹̊̉͗̓ͅ ̶̧̥̥͓̩̲̠͉̆͋̃̔͘P̴͓͇͇͚̠͚̟̘̓̅̈́̽l̴̜͔̩͙͑̌̄e̷̲͓͚̗̮͙͇̮͆͛̓͗͒̈́a̷̢̛͂̒̎̏̚s̷͔̱̳̻͙̆̊́͒̑͜e̶̛̼͍̘͔̮̗͗̅̊͒̃̚ ̸̱͕̈́͐̔́̈́̈͠ḑ̴̛̙͙̖̯̙̿̕͠o̸̭͛n̷̡̨̮͉͎̱̠̘͛'̵͕̠̺̪̽̐͒t̷̯̎̎̾̐ ̸͔̿ḥ̶̡̱͋͊ṵ̷̺̯̏̾͛r̷̫̱̿͐t̶̘͉̥̄̿ ̶̡̟̹̺̭̠͍̄̂̽̒͛m̴̤̝̞̭͖̾̾e̴̮̽́͗͘͝ ̷̫͎̲̠͐̈́I̵͎͙͐͂͝'̶̨̡̝̤͈͋̊̃̉͝͠m̸̡̤̣̬͔̹̿̋͜͝͝ͅ ̷̯̱̤̭̰̮̱̯̀͛̅s̴̡͈̲͈̱̯̱̈́́͒̚̚ǫ̸̡͍̟̝̙̬̋̐̐̇͂̂ŗ̶̺̤̰͛̋͝r̴̨̻̘̰̻̦̤͋̅̀̋̎ý̶̤̪̮̲̆̈́̽̂̕͝͠ ̶̲̦̗̱̲͖̟̬̾͌̊̃̓Ĭ̴̭̭͍̈́'̸̗̮̯̞̔͘m̵̤̌́̄̈́ ̷̺̥̩̮͑͗̊s̶̪̳̳͆̍̒͗o̸̡̘͙̬͌͑͊̚͝ṛ̸̛͇̠̼̞̇̄̽̾̒̇͘r̷̲̅͌̄ỳ̷̩̈́̆͊̏͜͝ ̴̪̹͐̒̋͆̚ĭ̶̯̠͉̲̰́̚m̸̩̣̘̰͔̓̈̕ͅ ̶̡͕̯̠͙̩̗̇͠s̵̢͖̮̜̦͈̆̾͑o̴̡̝͕̝̮̪̗̐̆̈́̒̾̇̕͜͠r̸͖͉̣̙̣̖͙̮̆̈́̓̃̎͂͋r̶͔͙̾̂͌͐͘y̴̨͔͍͊͐̃̅ ̶͖̠͍̜̥͔̈́̿͆͑̄͋͘Ą̷̡̗̦̗̰̲̿́͘m̵͚̜̬̄̃̓̈̈̌͑ȧ̵̧͇̖̪̺̻̪͔̾̅̿̋͘͘̕n̵̞͓̲̠͙͋̊̃̃͝͝d̴͚̩̭̼̤̼̺̂̒͐͠a̶̡͚̥͉͕̲̩͙͊ ̵̳̮͕̋̄ͅͅs̵̤̦̥̲̹̍̌͝͝t̵̡̠̘͇́͑̂̎̓͝ǒ̴̝͓̟͕͖̮p̶̨̐̓ ̴̧͓̺̣̘̲̉͜p̵̩̩͍̭͇̻̻͌̃̽l̸̻̭̊e̴̢͔̣͉̯͆͝a̷͕͊̚ş̴̢̜̤̮̹̌͊̓̃͝͝e̸̢͐̋̇̂̔͛ ̷̱͔̞̲̲͖̋͂̽̉̌͘** _

 

 

_**l̴̛̦̈͂̈́͊̑̌̇̈̾̄̉̿͘͝e̵̫͈̎̀̊̊̎̈̄͆̔͠t̶̡̧̨̧̨͍̹̥͇̖̫̬̯̻̲̮̻̼̝͎̙̭̝̖̥̪̖̙̬͉͇̹̑̄̅̿̓͋̈̈́̐̂̌͋̏̽̋̄͒̀͋̆̔͋͋̚̕̕͝͝ͅͅm̸̨̧̡̧̡̛̛̹̫̟͙̺̻͖̮̲̺̜̘̣̜̜̗͖͚̭̹̺̖͖̲̜̰͙̙̤̲̲̈́̔̎̈̉̍̽͐̚͘͝͝͝ͅè̷̡̢̛̞̠̪̪̲̬͖̥̤̾̇̃̋̃̏̏͋̾̍͗́͊͌̐̄͗̌̇̚̕͜g̷͙͖͔̽̓̂̊̀̔͑̌̉̋̈́̏̃͐̈͌͆͑̈́͂̊̽͜͝͝ǫ̴̨̢̡͔̪̤̫̟͍͉̺͊̿̇̌͊̃̎̈̊͌̂̇̏̈̑̒̋͑́̓̒͗͂̾̔͑͐͆̒̎̕̕͘͝ļ̷̢̩̘̲͚̻̜͓̠̰̠͋̄̇̆̌͑́̑͘͜ȩ̶̧̢̫̞̘̺̟̺͍̻̘̋̋͛̾ͅͅt̷̮͈͔͇͂̾̇̊͛̉̇͐̾̓̑̓̎̐̍̅̄̊̃̂́̉͆̽̔̇̉̑͘͘̕̕͝m̴̧̱̖̠͉̰̩̬̘̘̟͒̓̿̋̈́̓͊̂̏͆̈́̅͒̇̽̈́̅̅͛̀̀̈́̌̈́̕̕͜͝ẹ̴͓̇̅͌̈́͐̔͂̓͛̕g̵͈̝̰̬͎̱̖̰̗̺̦̤̜̘̯̮͔̗͌̀̈́͊ơ̴̢̡̫̟̯͚͔͙͎̝̼̬̏̐̀̇̈̿̌̏̊̿̕̕͘͝ͅl̷͖̬̥͉̱̙̝̠̊̓̍̉͂̊͛̉͑̓͘͝e̸̢̡̗͚͉̹̱̻̮̻̺̙͋́͗̄̉̾̀̔̅̄̇̄̏̓͑̋͛͌͑̑̉̿̿͆̅́̈́̈́̃̔̔͌̅̏̚͜ͅẗ̶̡̢̘̞̹̝͖̘̜͉̘͙͉̟͕̙̳͍͔̝́̂̊̏̉͐̒͂̏̊͑̂͋̂̋̔̀̍́̅̽͘̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝m̷̛͔̲̲̥͉̯͉͎͔̦̱͚̗̮̌̇̓̋̿̏̑̿̑̽̒͊̃̒́́͆͛̒̊̃͂̎̈́̑̄͗̒̕͝͝ē̴̡̧̢͓̼̩̮̝̣̱̩̲̗̠̟̙͙͓̼̫͍͎̣̻̣͇̮̮̩̯̥̠͊̈̔̎̂̍̊͂̓̀̿̅̀̄̌̿̾͐̏̀̒͘͜͜͝ͅͅg̸̨̨̢̡̨̛̻̪̺͓̪̠̲̼͎̞̼͔̩̝̜̜̰̮̺͓̥̰̓́͒͒̍́̈́̇̈͋͊̈͋̆͌̿̅͌̀̑̇̔͊̈́͘ͅo̴͇̺̘̅͒̏͆̇̊̃͑̆͛͐̈̍̿̔̋̑̇̕͠͝ļ̸̢̡̨̨͕̼̺͍͓̗͈̖͈͈̰̞̦̯̮̞͕̖̗͚͎̖̑̐͑̾̈͒͒̈́̈́͐̀̑̍̍̊̈́̔̄̂̌̀͂̾͆̾̕̕͠ͅȩ̴̧̡͍͖͕̻̪̦̫̫͙̯̱̻̲̥̓̈́̎̊̽̔̒̃̌̔̔̆͊̄͑̽̌̿͘̕̕͝͠͝ͅț̸̛̛͉͎͈̤̺̝̯̄͋̈̉͛͂̒̏͂̀͗͒͐͛͆̎̀́̈́͛͘̚͝͝ͅm̴̧̛̛͎͔͙̼̟̥̙̗̠̤̯̱̈̉͐͐̔͑͗̽͂̋͐͗̔́͗̇̍̍̈̍͊͊̈̒͊̒̈̚͜͝͠͠ͅe̴̡̧̨͍͉̹̤̲͇̪̹̘̱̭̲̱͔̻̣͔̤͕̰̙̬̩͍̞͚̦̮̗͒͌̑̎͛̓̂͊̿̎͜͠͝͠ͅg̵̛̖̯̙̥̖̹͓̯̞̮̘̬̥̯͔̮̩̝̫̙͕̺͉̣̯̰̐̎̽̍͂̅̑͝͝ͅǫ̶̛͚̰̯̺͚͖͚̲̻͕͖̪̪̬̖̖͇̪̗̥̯͇͇̃̔̾͒̆͛̾̾̿̋̃͜͝ͅl̷̨̛̮̬̣̬̲͑̈͆̔̉̈́̽̇͒͆̒̂̌̑̃̄͂͆̈́̅̿̾̏͘͠ę̵̘̹͈̻͎̙̠̖̬͊̾̿̈́͆̔͂̑͠͝t̴̡̢̢̤̯͔̼̼̗͔̞̺̩̭̯̞̳̘̭͉̦͚̟̘̤̟̼̣̤̦̪̦͋̔̈́͋̔̇̂͗̔͒͋͊͆͐͑̓̐̽̀̌̕̚͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅm̷̨̛̛͓̹͕̳͚͓̗̬̩̗͍̗͇̙͖͛̍͋́̀̌͐̚ẻ̷̢̨̧̨̬̲̝͎͖̳̺̻̤̺̣͙͓̝̞͕̹̥̙̬̫̖̺̹͙̳̹͂̍͆͆̅̆͋͂͐̕͜͜͠ͅg̶̡̢̧̼̹̻̦̗͚̮̻͎̪̬̖̮͚̣̪͍̦̺̱͇̬̲̖̳̲͙̦͚͚̞̘̙̳̉͌͗́͛͊̆̓̒̔̂̄͊͝ơ̴̜̺̫͚̞͓̠̰̦̩̲̹̹̝͔̳̝̻̍͒̅̈̓̊̃͋́̃͋͆̅̈́͒́͗̑̑̏͑̿̾̋̆̒͘̕͝͝͠͝͝ͅl̸̨̧̢̗̩̘̯̯͍̦͉̖̲̤̹̙̰̩͕̘͕̈́͗̄̑̌̋͆̈̑̆͆́̊̔̈́̋͐̌̔̚͜͠͠͠͝ͅé̷̡͙͕̦͚̲̘̗͔̣̦̐ţ̵̡͚̘͕̲͚̻̭̘̮̬̻͊̉̉͂̏̽͑͑̏̐͐̑͑̎͐̌̍̍̊̋̐̎̚̕͠͠m̶͚̮̝̪͉͇̠͚̬͓̙̹͇̮̺̞̯̹̬͓̣͋̎̒̓͗̐̑͛͐̈̏͆͌̅͊ͅͅê̵̡͉͇̪̩̪̫͚͖̳̪̮͍͙̩͎̣̝̝͚̞̝̙̥͈͎̩̦̙͙̓̍͑͋̄̓̄̅͂̉͐̆̋̃̅̏̓̄̍̑̈́̄̇͑͘̚̚̚͠͝g̷̢̢̛̗͉̹͍͖͈͓͚̮̣͎̦̀͌̈́̃̄̂͐͒͘͠ơ̵͚̮̠̣̲͍̫̞̻͒̉̌͗̉̄̈́͊̓̋͛̏̈́̒̈̎̈́̏̓̾̕̕͝͝l̶̡̨̢̡̢̢̨̻̘̤̮̲͈̙̭̘̠͚̤̼̺̲̰̗̱̱̀͠ͅͅȩ̶̢̡̱̙͎̰͍̤͖̫̝̩̰̰̻̫̺̪͈͔̲̄͂̈̏͋̆̉͑̄̆̏̑͘̕t̷̢̧͇̤͎͇̣̝̠̼͙̏̌ͅm̸̧͓̦͖͓̮̭̰̮̮͉̼̠͚͖̙̞̩̑̓ę̸̢̡̧̡̡̹̝͍͎̘͈̘̺̣̳̞̼̲̺̰̮̦̩̦̠̝̗̽́̆͋̿̃̎̓̅̌̈̑̊̓͊̊̈͆̔̏̓́̓̊̅͆̋̂̊͆̕̕ͅg̷̢̧͙̙̼̯̰̳̤̞̤̦̪̖̼͔̙͔̼͖͎̩̳̺̙͈͂̇͒̐̿̿̌̆̈́͊̓̀͆̉̋̑̈́ͅͅọ̴̧̨̹̙̦̣̯̣̬͚̺̬̥͓̖̟̥̥̣̰͖̘̥̖͇͓̲͓̳̫̮̰͉̆͆̓̎̏̋̌̽͒ͅͅl̷̡̨̧̛̬̤̯̫̗̻͚͇̮͕̳͍̭͎̝͙̖͙̲̹̖̲̗͖͖̞͍͇̤̘̯̭̇̂͛̓̀̊̍͆̽͂̆͋̓̎̂͊̆̓̄̌̓̐̃͛̊͘͝͠͝ͅe̴̼̫̺̘̅̌̾̉͗̒̔̾̽̃͊͂͠t̴̤̼̓̾̋͒̓̊̐͐̏̿̑̾͊͐̂͐͂̍̆̅̆̈̅́͂͜͠m̸̢̢̢͕͖̞̣̥̣̣̦̳̟̼̮̻͓̙̭̳̟̯͚̙͇̭̺̝̠̜͍̝̪̝̈͛̈́̉͑̓̉̆͆̃̈́͂̿̈͗͛̍͗͆̍͗̆̃̋͆̊̈̓̇̕͘͜͝͠ͅe̷̬͎̮̥̐̉̆̓͛͊͛̒̒͛̓̍̚͝ģ̵̢̧̢̡̜̜̭̤̱͇͉͎͎̰̙̹̲͙͎̱̪̘̰̫̪̺̯͐͂̈́͒̈́̽̏̆̌̎͋͌̆̑̓̋͐͌̍̊̑̌̀̚̚̚͜͠ͅơ̶̡̧̡̢̨̛̹̯̖͕̭̝̭̙̤̹͚̹̟̩̳̳̺̩̰̣̩̼̭̂̐͑̎̅̃̄̇͑͐̑̏̄̇͆͊̍̂̌̿͆̉̚̚̕͠͠ͅͅl̴̨̛̺̼͇͙̝̪̩̖̘̞̙̪͍͓̳̝̄̐̌͆̓̒͗̏̾̊͂͒̒͌͒̈́̂̐͊̇̅̽̃̈́̔͋̉̒͆̕͜͝͠e̸̢̡̛̛̺̣̤̤̝̭̱̬̖̳̦̦͉̙͇͚̗̘̮̙̹͎͓̖̝͔̦̓͋͗́̋̅͘̕̕͜͠͠ͅt̸̲̭̩͎̗̠̜̖̳̏̕͝m̵̛̗̼̝̝̹̞͔̣̿̎̌̔̏̈̂̆̉̐̋̂͋̂̿̿̀̾ͅe̸̡̡̛̺̜̥͕̰̣̘͙͕̹̲̖̰̎͛̓̀̇͒͌͐͗̈́̀̍̈́̑̇̿̈́̒̊̅̍̔̔̾͗̄̑̔̍̒̀͘͘͜͜ͅg̵̢̠̻͎̩̳̹͈̯͎͕̟̮̼͈̖̤̫̫̫̖̘̤̦͕̳̦͒̈͐̎͜ọ̸̢̖̼̗̗̟͙̹̼̞͎̞̙͚̜̠͍̼̞̈̏͑̇̅̆͊͝͝l̷̡͕̞̊͆̾̐e̷̢̡̡̛̱͚̝̰̘̠͉̱̜̫͈̯̳̺̘̩͖̺̣͖̲̰̩̰̫̮͔̹̭͙͒̏̓͒͂͊̓̓͆̕͝͠ͅt̵̢̢̛̯̼͕̙̜̤͖̗̫͍͖̞͙͔̂̃͐̏̾͋̊̃̌̽̈́͊̔̀͋̕͠͝͝͝͝m̸̨̢̡̩̜͈̫̞̰͇̤̪̞̩̤̜̳͓̼̖̙̳̭̌̉͗̽͑͊͛̆́̑̂̈́̈́͗͊̅͂͒͑̑͠ę̸̢̨̩̮̣̠̻̗̥̰̦̣̱͍̝͓̝̮̙̯̱̻̥͎͖̖͍̳͙̞̹̩̗̣͝ͅg̷̨̨̧̡̥͇̣̯̞͈͙̮̼̪̥̘̪̖̩̹͕̲̜̻̤̠͕̭̹̝̰̿̔͆̔́̅͘͜ö̶͍͙̬̙̼̯̱͓͇̖͍͙̣͈̦͙́̊̉̄̿͐́̿͑͂̌̍̈́̎͑̃̈̈̑̏̿̐̿̃̌̚ͅļ̸͇͉͉̳̜̗̖̜̯̤͕̼̥͇͍͍͍̘̜͓͇̤̖͍̅̾̿̐̐̀̿͜͜͠ê̵̡̧̢̡̛̠̗̫͔̠̼̟͈̩͇̙̖̼̙̹͇̮̝̮̖̤̺͉̳͔͋̈́̌̉͋͊̐̒̊͛̔̆̏̐̓̈̏̌̈̽̽̕̚͜͝͠͝͠t̶̡̧̲̮̱̘̹͇͕̞͍̺̺͓̟͇̩͇͓̩͉̹̖̞̮̦̑̔̾̊͗͗͋͆̍̓̃͘͜͝͝m̵̨̡̢̼̘͉̲̭̯̯̺̭̦̈̅̃͌͒̎̓̊͑̋̍̌͋̓͐̓̇̕͘̕̕͠͝e̴̡̨̧̧̡͕̣̯͖͎͇̖̙̥͖̼̫̘̖͓̹̣̙͙̘͍̠͍̹̞̺̱͓͗̃̈͑̈́̋̽̐̑͋̆͒̋̌̆͘͜͜͝ͅͅg̷̛̼̟̙̬͖̀́͂̑̉͗͐͛̀͐̎̀̋͊͜͝͝͠o̸̡͖̗͙͕͖̖̰͕̙̠͖̮͕̓̿͌͆͗ͅl̴̗̠̼̼̰̪̰͉̀̑̅̎̔̍̂͜͠ͅͅë̷̟̊͊̑̂͆t̴̡̨̡̛̪̟̤͔̤̜̺̝͕̯̺͖̟̮͍͓̎̌͋͑͌͜ͅͅm̵̧̢̨̨̹̳̙̗̭̻͈̫͉͓̜̰̻̙̞̘̙̘͍̥̻̬͙̻̼̻̣̮̲̾̄̋̃̌͂̊̏̈́̓̉̂̽̍͊̈̋̈́̽̈́͑̕̚͜͜͝͠ȩ̷̫͈̮̼̣̞̯̯̙̱͈̟͓̞̹͇͔͍̣̘̬̗̘̻̌̒̓̇̅̿͝ͅͅģ̸̙̣̣͙̮͎̝̬̘̦̤̩͍̬̞̜̤̭͕͔̺̬̘̖̩̬̻̉͜ͅo̶̡̨̝͇̣̬͈̳̺̫̹̺̻̼̥̬̝̠̘͍̣̙͎͔͓͚̩̬̫̭̹͛̄̊̀̈́́̒̋̉̒̓̔̈́̂̓̊̍͑͂̋͘̕͜͝͝l̸̡̯̫̱̫̳͖͙̂̇̔͊͘ę̴̨͓͔̻̝͎̬̫͇͍̠̞̹͇̤͓͙̩͓̙̭̼̥̬̬͈̲͇̜̩̿̂́̿͊̏͐̄̈͐̇̏͌́͋̔͒̐̑̒͐͋͘͠͝͝t̴̢͇̥͖̺͚̦̩̠͖͇̭̭̙̖̘̲͙̜̜͔̫̦͇͍͔͉̥͉̙̣̾̔̎̎̆̈̏̾̑̈́͘̕͜͝ͅm̶͉̖̝̖̬̬͔̝̥̍̐͘͝͝e̵̛̛͎̗͇͑͛͛̓͊̒̋͆͑̈́̉̿̎͌̄̒̑͐̐̽̾̿̒̓͘̚̚̚͜͝͝g̸̨̡͇̼̼̜͔͈̻̖̫͖̬͙̬̘͓̙̥͈̲̰͓̝͍̹̝͇̹̘̣͇̤͆̃̊̄ͅỏ̶̖̜̜̲̩͒̌́͛̈́͗̃̽̿̓̀ḻ̷̢̢̛̲̤̬̯͍͍͓̞̩̜͔̠̙̞̘̲̥̤̭̘̌̋̈̑͋̂̎͗̈́̋̇͗̌̑̽̓̂̑̌̊͜͝͝e̸̡̢̞͕̼͕͚̯̝͈͚͎͇̿̓͒̐̓̔͛̾̈́̈͂̿̔͊̓ͅţ̸̘̖̗̭̯̟̣̦͚̣͓̳͛̒͊̉̄̾̃͆̿́̋̍͆̚͝͠͝ͅm̷̢̧̢̢̢̨͉̺̦͖̮̙̭͍̠̗͍̥̝̫̤̼͈̠̹̠̺̘̹̟̫̍̈́̃̚͜͜͝͝͝ͅe̴̼̰̐̒̐̈̋̅́̅̄̋̾̎͊̎̉̏̽͋͊͂̈́͌̎͂̓̽͂͋̚̚̚͝͠g̷̢̛̲̺͙͖͙͗͋̈́͒̉̇̃͆͑̕̚ǒ̴̢̡̨̦̲̫̼̫͍̖̩͕̤͓̫͚̠̤̦͚͈̺̦̦͇͚̮̃̅͐̋̅̅̑̿̈́̊̂͑̋̏̌̕͜ͅͅl̶̛͇̞͎̠̼͇̥̠͔͎͕̲̟̰̪̩̯̦̈́́͛͐̌͋͐̇̋̉͒͛̈͂͗͋͘̕͜͝͝ę̷̭̰̟̣̼̪̘̓͋̓̿̓̊̍̈́͛̓͛̋̈́̽̈̔̿͑̄̌̑̈́̄̈́́̄̅̈̊̉̄̈́̕͝ͅţ̷̟̹̗̤͙̤̬̗͕̰͙͎͍̏̌͆͋̐ḿ̴̨̡̛̛̬͇̘̻͖̥̹̘͚̰̲̳̘̖̜͙̦̣̩͍̊̈́͊͂̏́̾̈́͆͒̔̍̒̽̉̾̓̈́͠͠ͅͅẻ̸̢̲̙̼̖͖̖̪̦̣̹̺̫̱͚̞̹̠̭̳̘͉̟̬̂͋̄̆̒͌̾̑̓́̈́͌̋̀̓̿͋͗̿̒͌͋̕̚̚͠g̸̡̹̼̪̬̣̲͉̼̘̯̺͎̣̈́̇͊͂̂̕̕o̶̞̞͓͛̀͂͒̈́̇̎̑̌̃̔͝͠͝͝l̴̦̦̰͚̑̐̐̎̉̍̂͝ê̴̢̨̤̜̜̻͇̭̬͔͓͕̘̣̫̘̩̣̩͖̙̘̠̈́͋̍̚͝͠͝ṯ̵̡̙͓̞̣̮̦͔̲̹̠̜̭̤̲̪̈̈̽͑̉̐͂͑̅̄̉̄̈̋̔̓̄̏͑͝m̵̧͎̖̙̲̎̉́̉͐͗̉̽̎̓̋̉̒̋͊͒̐̒̈̅̿͗̏͑͒̊͆̓̄͑̂̑́̕͠͝e̶̡̧̧̢̛̳̻̫̬̘̱̤̲̱̗̰̮̻̺͔̜̼̼͈̘̣̘̳͊͜͜g̷̢̛͈̠̟̰̦̟̺̞̣̰̗͙͈̜͖̺̳̺͙̠̺̼̺̦͉͚̦̃̃o̴̫̞͐͛͂̃̅͆́̏̈͂͛͐̍͋͂͐̽̃̎͛̈́̅̿̃̐͒͛̊̽̕͘͠͝l̷̢̧̛̩̰̦̣̣̭̪̰͚̫͉̙̙͔͚͔̞̮̰̗̤̽́̈́͂̔̄͆͐̅͋́̈̀̓̋̉͋̔͊͗̈́̂̓̏̾̌̈̉̕̕̚͘ͅe̷̡̺̺͚̺͓͖̱̖̰̰̥̞͕͔̘̬̤͔̟̱͍̘͓̻͎̥͆̃̾̉̕ͅt̶̨̨̧̢̮̯͇͚̯̺̮̮̮̳̼͎̲̤̻͚̫̘̖̰̥̽͋̌̾̓͆̒͑͛͗͛́̈̎̌̚̚͝m̷̢̢̜͙̺̮̻̜̱͍͐̇̍̈́̽̍̿͘̕͠ȩ̶̡̢̨̨̛̭̲͖̰̪͚̹̝̲̩͉͙̯̞̩̳̊͂̀́͛̆̓͋̆͛̔̉͐̎̆̏̄̐͑̃͛̊̐̆͝͝g̵̢̧̜̟̙͖̦̟͍̠̹̙̠̗͎̖̪̰̤̩͖̒͒̃͒̌̌͌͛̄̈́̇̌̐͑̅̉̑̋̕ͅo̶̡̡̨̬̣̫̮͓̳̮͖̘̪̩͎̫͎̲̞̥̰̖̻̩̙̹̺̲̳̓͂̇̔̃́̿̀̅͗͛͛̏̓͋͋̐̾͂̍̓͊̌̊͂̿́̉̐͜͠l̷̡̢̢͈̪̲͈͎͍̞̰͓̯̹͇͚̥̬̜̗͙̠̯̯̯̱͇͎̦͔̈́̽̎͛͆̒̂͂̇̎͂͂̈́̽̐͋̎͝͝e̶̥̓͛̅̃̉̓̎̔̐̀͋̓͋̌̆̂̓͂́̓̕̕͘͝͠ţ̶̡̛̹̆̍̈́͋͊̄͑̎̆̿͐̎̽͒͋͆͛̐̊̓͋̉ḿ̴̨̢̛̛̛͓̣͓̩̟̙̩͓̱̮̞͚̞̗̠̣̽̈́̓͐̇̐͊͛̾͆̇̈́͛͊̔̄̀̏̐̅̑̌̒̈̇̽̇̃͂̌e̷̡̗̤̯̞̰̜̻͍̯̗̙̥͔̳͍̖̮͎͙̘̝̤̒͌̊̓̊̏̓́̆̒͒͂̌̓̎̕̚͘̚͜͠͝͝ġ̶̡̧̨̡̡̛̛͓̪̣̻͔͕͍̤̺͕̙̯̻͓͈̫̟̗̱̩̯̭̟̮́̌̄̐̑̉͋̂̓͊͌͆̽͂̎̿̓̈́̉̌̋̓̾̊̊̊͗̚̕̕͜͜͠͝ͅͅơ̸̦̖̮̽̇̓̈́̽̓͐̍̌̚l̸̯̩̜͎̈́̈́ę̴̨̡͖̗̯̯̳͇̞̝̬̠͚̺͕͓̟͍̳͓̣̩͇̙͆̆̂̏͌̌̔̎̿̌̓͗̍̒̐͂̆́̃̑̋̓̽̓̚͜͜͝͝͠͝t̶̲̹́͑̔̆̽͘͠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_

 

****[Error: Processor 2 experiencing symptoms that could lead to Overload]  
** **-{Closing **[Memory File/20381112002157]** to prevent further damage}** **

**[ALERT] - STRESS LEVEL: 72%**  
**-PLEASE REFRAIN FROM CURRENT ACTIVITY TO AVOID CATASTROPHIC FAILURE  
-CURRENTL-**

 

Bark.

 

Oh.

 

Sumo had at some point returned to Connor's side. The dog looked up at It with wide eyes. The mud on the android's pants suggested that he had been pawing at It's leg for quite some time now. Connor checked It's internal clock. It had been approximately 2 hours since It had sat down. The dog looked tired. Maybe it was time to leave. 

"Ok Sumo. Let's go home." It got up, re-clipped the leash to Sumo's collar, and began walking back in the direction of Hank's house.

It successfully sorted the memory files. Now that they were in It's long term hard drive, It didn't have to re-access them ever again. It was over. Now it could focus on more important things.

 

Connor knows It's okay now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 things:
> 
> 1\. Holy Jebus I've been gone a while. I swear I didn't abandon this.
> 
> 2\. I've got a couple chapters lined up and I promise most of them are not this depressing.
> 
> 3\. What do y'all think of the writing style in this one? I enjoy experimenting but I wanna know your honest opinions. Should I do it again at some point or nah?


End file.
